


A Terrible Amber

by scallywap



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Background Relationships, Cameos from other RT employees, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, England (Country), Humor, Hurt and comfort, M/M, Minor Original Character(s), Panic Attacks, Roadtrip, Roommates, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-09
Updated: 2019-04-09
Packaged: 2020-01-07 14:38:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18412679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scallywap/pseuds/scallywap
Summary: It's easy to hate. It's easy to turn people away and refuse to empathise and to close yourself away. It's easy to hurt others, to scream and to yell when they get too close. But when someone looks at you, with eyes swimming with fear, and asks for your help. How can you say no?High school, roadtrip Jeremwood AU... also they're in England.





	A Terrible Amber

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fahcbuddies](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fahcbuddies/gifts).



> Hoo boy I got some things to say before we start this monster.  
> 1) This is set in England because that's where I live so it's just a lil easier for me to describe England than to describe Georgia or Boston or wherever.  
> 2) This fic has interactive links! they'll be underlined and you'll be able to click on them. Some are websites, some are pictures and some are audio. They're mainly there to help with the story telling but if you don't want to click them then it'll make perfect sense without them. They just for fun really.  
> 3) On a more serious note, this chapter has a very descriptive section where a character suffers from a panic attack. If you aren't comfortable reading that then I highly recommend not reading this fic.
> 
> Other than that, I hope you enjoy!

_Suddenly this defeat._  
_This rain._  
_The blues gone gray_  
_And the browns gone gray_  
_And yellow_

 _a terrible amber._ _  
_

_In the cold streets_  
_Your warm body._  
_In whatever room_  
_Your warm body._  
_Among all the people_  
_Your absence_  
_The people who are always_ _  
Not you._

__\- Jack Gilbert_ _

* * *

Heathrow Airport was as clinical as the plane had been. Mrs Hemsworth, a portly lady with a purple face, had her boarding pass held high above her head at the front of the pack to guide her ducklings along. That is of course, if ducklings were fifteen American high-schoolers who looked beyond exhausted and irritable. After an early morning wake up call and a fourteen hour flight, the Photography and Art clubs of Glendall High felt like dead weights, knuckles dragging along the polished ground like apes. Among them, towards the back with his headphones securely slotted over his ears, was Jeremy Dooley.

At sixteen, he was only a few years into Glendall High and he already dreaded the remaining year and a half. It was a miracle he had even been allowed on this trip, given his record, but Hemsworth had insisted. He regarded the back of her head with distaste as she waddled the pack through the hallway towards the UK Border. She seemed to think that she could ‘fix’ him, and had made Jeremy her little project.

Ever since finding out that he was a natural at drawing more than stick figures, she had seen something in him. The next thing he knew he was signed up for Art club and she would call on him more often than usual, to get his opinion on whatever still life Gabriella Lawson had painted that week. But apparently,  _ ‘It’s a fucking vase’ _ wasn’t the answer she had wanted. And being a part of Art club meant that he was now forced to take part in club activities. Which included being dragged halfway across the world to Britain with the Photography class. Home of Hemsworth herself, she so proudly announced as if it wasn’t obvious from the way her constant twittering was shooting straight through Jeremy’s head like a thousand needles, something only British accents could do.

The stream of passengers from their flight connected with those from other arrivals and they were efficiently carted towards the large lines that had already formed at the border. Hemsworth turned towards the group, causing them all to stumble to a halt, a few people crashing into the person in front of them, still in a sleepy daze. A few disgruntled tourists muttered from behind them at the hold up.

“Everyone take your passports out and head towards the Non-EU citizens line! I’ll meet you all on the other side!” she said happily and scuttled off. As she went one of the boys from the Photography class made a quip about how she ought to join them in the Non-EU line after Brexit and a few people chortled. Jeremy huffed and turned up his music, the steady thrum of drums and guitar almost soothing to him in his state of tiredness. Their group hurried towards their designated line and went through the automated systems one by one. Some of the students showed each other their passport photos and mocked their friends’ photos. Jeremy however, stayed at the back, away from everyone.

Suddenly, someone slammed into his back and sent him stumbling forward. He caught himself and spun around to find the guilty party. Behind him were two boys from the Art club who were staring at him with wide, terrified eyes, their faces pale. One of the boys had his friend’s passport clutched in a vice-like grip and the other boy was frozen in his position, previously grabbing for it. They were shaking in fear at the rage in his eyes. Jeremy ripped his headphones off of his ears and narrowed his eyes, his face going.  _ “What the fuck are you--?!” _

“There a problem here?”

The three boys looked up at an upperclassman, Ryan Haywood. He had been chosen by Hemsworth to come along as a second pair of eyes so she wasn’t overworked. There were two other upperclassmen behind him, peeking over Ryan’s shoulder to access the situation. Jeremy gritted his teeth, so badly wanting to punch him right in his smug face.

They didn’t share any classes together, Ryan was a senior and had his own shit to deal with. But Jeremy would often see him with the principal, acting more like his personal assistant than a student. He was tall, much taller than Jeremy himself, comfortably in the six foot range. He was gorgeous too, lithe and blonde, bright eyes that twinkled when he smiled. Jeremy hated him instantly. “I’m dealing with it, princess.”

“You are, are you?” Ryan hummed, lifting his chin in thought. He hummed and looked at the two frozen boys, who looked like they were about to faint, “Kyle, Miles. We’re in an airport with security all around us on the lookout for strange behaviour. I’d say wrestlin’ over a passport is pretty suspicious, wouldn’t you?”

Miles, the one who had stolen the passport from Kyle, looked down at his feet sheepishly and cleared his throat, “Sorry, Rye. Won’t do it again.”

Ryan turned to his friend, “And Kyle, there’s really no place for shovin’. We’re all exhausted, how about you two calm yourselves and say sorry to Jeremy here.”

Kyle and Miles looked between each other, Miles handing his friend his passport back, “S-sorry. Jeremy.”

Jeremy snarled at him and he yelped.

Ryan turned to Jeremy and placed a heavy hand on his shoulder, “The boys didn’t mean it, Dooley. Don’t bring out the claws for this one, they’re just idiots. Not worth your time, hmm?”

He shoved his shoulder so that Ryan’s hand slipped off, making the boy-- the man stand up straighter, his eyes glinting in amusement, “Don’t fucking touch me.”

“That’s more like it.” Ryan smiled warmly and clapped his hands together, “Keep yourselves to yourselves and try not to kill each other until we’re at the hotel. Then you can go at it as much as you like, and I don’t have to care. Deal?”

The three boys didn’t reply and Ryan nodded, walking back to where he had been standing originally, a few people ahead of them. Jeremy felt his heart squeeze and he glared at the back of Ryan’s head, silently burning two pin-sized holes into the back of his head. The trip hadn’t even officially started and already Jeremy hated everything about it. After that incident, Jeremy silently stewed as they slowly slithered their way to the front. Eventually he made it to the border and reluctantly took off his headphones, bringing them down to hang around his neck as the machine readjusted itself to be able to see Jeremy’s face clearly. After a few moments a large, obvious green tick appeared on the screen and the gate opened. He was officially  _ in  _ England.

It was late afternoon in London by the time they made it out, though it felt much later.

They didn’t get to see much of the city itself in their first few hours there. They collected their baggage, made their way out of the airport, and headed to the Underground. After confusion over Oyster cards and British money, they were on a train into central London, the sky a burnt orange around them, the not so distant glass towers glinting in the sunlight. Their train sped along its track, alternating between being overground and underground the more they snaked around the city. The further out they were, the more domestic areas they passed, small houses next to the tracks with their washing lines up, clothes hung and drying, soaking up whatever sun the British spring could spare.

Moving closer to the hub of London, the train hurtled into a tunnel and went further underground, and didn’t come up again. Other travellers who had large bags and luggage meandered off of the train, and locals on their way home from work took their places, heads in their own minds oblivious to the world. Jeremy observed one woman on the opposite end of the train wearing bright turquoise headphones, bobbing her head in time to whatever she was listening to. For a split moment, her rhythmic bobbing matched the tempo of Jeremy’s own music and he felt a strange connection between the two of them. Two strangers listening to music, perfectly in time. And then, like it had never happened, his song sped up again and they were no longer in sync. He looked away from her and sighed, pulling out his phone to change the song. Something about this city didn’t scream early 2000s rock to him. Instead he scrolled through his downloads and found an old episode of a podcast he liked, tapping the play button.

_ “--’How can I gently convince my boyfriend that money matters?’ That’s from Broke and Broken Hearted. Okay, first off--” _

If the train wasn’t shaking so much, Jeremy would rest his head back and close his eyes, though to do so would result in several concussions for sure with how ferociously the train was speeding along. Though that didn’t stop some of his classmates and they leaned against each other, against the windows, against anything they could to get some much needed shut eye before they had to move again. Ryan was the only one standing, just off to the side of them all, looking out of the windows. Jeremy tilted his head and furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. They were underground, what was he looking at--?

As if he could somehow sense Jeremy’s eyes on him, Ryan turned his head towards the boy, his own eyebrows going up at Jeremy’s gaze. Not one to make a situation awkward, he smiled.

Jeremy frowned back at him.

Eventually, they arrived at their stop and the group of teenagers were shaken awake and hurried off of the train and out of the way of the disgruntled Londoners. Their hotel was just a short walk away, and finally they were given their first proper look at the old city. It was beautiful, especially in the dark night. They were at Victoria Station, surrounded by storybook buildings. Dark greens, navy and pearl white buildings lined the streets. People, more people than Jeremy had ever seen in Georgia, hustling and bustling through the streets. People on their phones, people with their music, people talking, people laughing, people  _ living _ . All together, all and one great big breathing community. They walked to their destination in wonder at the sights around them. They passed theatres, lit up for all to see, proudly displaying their productions. Crowds of people formed around their doors, waiting to get inside. Jeremy, despite not being a musical theatre fan, still recognised the ones he saw.  _ Wicked  _ and  _ Hamilton _ both drawing huge clumps of people. Hemsworth led them through the chaos, her stubby little hand waving in the air for them all to follow, though she was swallowed up by the much taller Londoners surrounding her. Luckily, Ryan and the other upperclassmen all raised their hands as well and helped make sure no one got lost. 

They walked a few minutes until they were away from the main street and hubbub, turning into a quieter and more peaceful area. The buildings in this section reminded Jeremy of cartoon banks, all pure white with pillars and gold plaques. Black fencing bordered the buildings into neat little squares, each one identical yet different. One building had baskets of red, pink and lilac flowers entangled with the railings, their green stems falling gracefully against the black metal. Another building had large paint canvases at the front with glistening ‘abstract’ pieces on each of them. They must have been drying. Jeremy blinked at the nonsense art and looked towards the rest of the group, who seemed to be as entertained by sightseeing as he was. After a few more minutes of walking they made it to their hotel, which was another one of the many identical white buildings they had seen but it’s doors had been refurbished into golden framed, glass doors. 

Heading inside they were all rather disgruntled to find that it was less of a hotel and more of a large house with enough rooms to fit them all. Mrs Hemsworth checked them all in and ran a hand through her hair, “Okay, everyone! Just a little longer then you can all head off to dreamland. Rooms! There’s one 4 person room, three 3 person rooms, one 2 person room and a single for myself. Discuss amongst yourself to decide who you’ll be rooming with for a few minutes and then I’ll give you each your keys.”

The group tittered excitedly and instantly began grouping themselves up.

Jeremy stood away from the group and shuffled his feet. He could feel someone’s eyes on him.

“You guys all grouped up?” Hemsworth asked after a moment checking everyone. Her eyes flitted around the teenagers and settled on Jeremy at the back. She frowned, “Jeremy, do you not have--?”

“I don’t have a roomie either, Mrs Hemsworth.” a voice piped up.

Everyone looked at Ryan who had his hand raised half in a semi apologetic shrug, “Was so focused on pairing the others up, I forgot about myself. I don’t mind being with Jeremy. That is--” his eyes locked with Jeremy’s own wide orbs, “If he’ll have me.”

The others baited their breath and waited for Jeremy to explode. He was never very good at keeping his emotions under wraps. After he had moved there from Boston, his aggressive nature that had protected him before suddenly isolated him, and people steered clear of him. At first he had thought that that was what he had wanted, to be left alone, but it didn’t take long for the deep loneliness to set into his stomach. Constantly there ready for his mind to bring to attention when he was lying awake a night or when he saw two people together, laughing, acutely aware that he would never have that. He didn’t feel like wanting to be wanted was too much to ask, but people always seemed surprised whenever he expressed any sign of friendship. He scared people away. 

_ So, why…? _

Ryan was looking at him with those bright eyes. Those damn bright eyes. He was doing a shy little half smile, quietly asking if this was okay, for him to reach out a hand and offer himself to Jeremy. To allow Jeremy to let him in. He looked away from the man and frowned. Was this all so Ryan would look better? The kind, selfless upperclassman who was the talk of the trip after he gave up his  _ safety _ to be around Jeremy Dooley. How  _ brave. _ Jeremy narrowed his eyes at the faded maroon carpet. He shouldn’t have to be someone’s guilt trip.

“You don’t have to do that.” Jeremy muttered and he felt the room tense at his voice.

Ryan walked towards him and he once again rested his heavy hand on his shoulder. Jeremy again, shrugged out of his touch. “I really don’t mind. It’s just the way the cookie crumbles. ‘Kay?” The other teens and Hemsworth seemed to relax at Ryan’s words but Jeremy had never been more tense. His fist tightened on his luggage, nails cutting into the handle making small half moons. 

“Well then, it’s decided.” Mrs Hemsworth stated happily, pointedly ignoring the lingering tension in the air and instead grinning at her students. “Who has the four person room? Miles, Kerry, Kyle and Cole? Yes, yes come up to the reception and get your keys. Next group--?”

Jeremy blocked out her nattering and backed up against the nearest wall, leaning his head back and staring up to the cracked painted ceiling. He always knew that this trip would be a disaster but he didn’t expect it to happen so soon into the trip. He brought a hand up to wipe away the sleep in his eyes,  _ fuck _ he was exhausted. Hopefully this day wouldn’t go on for too much longer. 

He felt a presence shuffle next to him.

Jeremy groaned.

“I got our key. Room 237.” Ryan told him in his constantly smug voice. Jeremy opened his eyes and saw his peer dangling the key in front of his face. The key was clearly labelled  _ ‘Room 4’ _ . Jeremy furrowed his eyebrows at him. Ryan’s smile faded a little, “Y’know? Room 237. From  _ The Shining _ ? Red rum?”

“I haven’t seen it.” Jeremy told him blankly, but snatched the key from Ryan’s hands anyway. 

“You haven’t seen  _ The Shining _ ?!” Ryan asked, aghast.

Jeremy shrugged and looked at the signs on the wall, clocking in on the gold plated sign that pointed upstairs labelled  _ ‘Rooms 1-5’ _ , “It was never a priority, I guess. Jeremy said, uncomfortable. “It’s not like it’s… I don’t know, the Bible or something.”

Ryan chuckled deeply and shook his head, “You’ve read the Bible?”

“Uh… No.”

“Somehow that doesn’t surprise me.” Ryan murmured and Jeremy felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

He stopped in his tracks, making Ryan walk right into him, “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” He turned and glowered at Ryan, who just held up his hands in surrender.

“I wasn’t insinuating anything, Dooley. I haven’t read it either.” he lowered his hands and tilted his head at Jeremy, perplexed. “I really don’t want to get into a fight over reading the Bible tonight, if that’s okay. I’m tired.”

To his credit, Jeremy loosened up a little and stood up straight. He took a moment to really look at Ryan for the first time since arriving in England. Now that the other students and Hemsworth had left, Ryan seemed to deflate. He was slouched now, not as towering as he had been. His hair, previously combed into a neat quiff was tousled and strands were dangling into his eyes. His eyes were a dark murky blue and looking at him wearily, unsure if Jeremy was going to start a fight or not. Ryan looked as dead-on-his-feet as Jeremy felt. Feeling embarrassed at snapping, Jeremy turned away with a small huff and hurried up the stairs to their room, dragging his luggage along with loud  _ thuds _ as they hit each step on the way up. He heard Ryan tut disapprovingly behind him, his own footsteps following behind and a distinct lack of luggage thuds making an unspoken point.

Jeremy unlocked their door and kicked it open, wrestling his luggage through the narrow door before immediately shotgunning the bigger bed by the window by dropping his bags at the end and flopping onto it, burying his face into the freshly laundered sheets. “ _ Fuck _ , I’m tired.” he groaned to no one in particular but Ryan hummed in response by the door as he made his own way into the room. Ryan looked around the room, running a hand along the painted and varnish wooden beams that ran up the walls in stripes. 

“This place is old. You can feel it in the weight of the room, can’t you?” Ryan commented, placing his own luggage by their shared wardrobe. He unzipped his bags and took out his clothes, placing them neatly inside. “I’m giving you the left side.” Ryan said only to receive a grunt of acknowledgement from Jeremy. 

Jeremy breathed sleepily into his pillow and smacked his lips, turning to watch Ryan unpack, “What did you mean? You can feel it in the weight of the room?”

Ryan spared him a glance before going back to unpacking, unfolding a blue shirt and taking out a hanger to hang it on, “Old buildings always feel heavy to me, denser. The foundations are thicker, walls were built to survive for centuries, ceilings are lower like they’re sinking. Do you not feel that?”

Jeremy thought for a moment and looked around their room. He hadn’t noticed it when he had walked in, too preoccupied with immediately falling into bed, but the ceiling’s  _ were _ lower. So low that Ryan was a little hunched over as he worked, subconsciously keeping his head away from danger of getting hit. “I guess I never noticed that before.” Jeremy mused, “Boston… Boston’s old but nowhere near as old as this place--” he went quiet and froze. Ryan seemed not to mind his sudden talkative mood, but Jeremy couldn’t help but clam up. He turned his face away and balked, “I think I’m gonna go to sleep.”

“M’kay.” Ryan seemed to be finished with his unpacking as he kicked his now empty bags under his bed and stretched, getting the last of the kinks in his back from travelling out of his back. “You aren’t going to get changed into some pyjamas?”

“Fuck you.” Jeremy said, muffled by his pillow, with no real malice there. He was too tired for malice.

Ryan seemed to find his sleepy aggression funny as he chuckled to himself, “Goodnight, Jeremy.”

Jeremy fell asleep that night to the sounds of Ryan’s soft padding around the carpeted hotel room, listening to him head into their toilet and have a shower. The gentle sound of the shower jets mixed with the low musical humming from Ryan lulling Jeremy into a deep, deep sleep. He was dead to the world by the time Ryan headed to his bed, the time on his phone showing well past one in the morning.

* * *

“Wake up.”

Jeremy grumbled and turned over, squinting at the unwelcome bright light beaming directly onto his face. “Turn the fucking light off.” he mumbled, and swallowed when he realised how dry his throat was from sleeping with his mouth open. God, did he snore?

A deep chuckle from his human alarm clock, “That’s the sun, Dooley. I can’t turn that off.”

Jeremy cursed at him making Ryan laugh again. He gave him a hearty slap on Jeremy’s buttocks, causing the younger man to startle awake and turn around, sitting up in bed,  _ “What the fu--?!” _

“You’re gonna miss breakfast.” Ryan told him simply and Jeremy looked at him with fire in his eyes. Ryan shrugged at him with a smirk and Jeremy narrowed his eyes when he realised his  _ roomie  _ was already washed and dressed for the day, his hair back to being neatly styled. 

Jeremy blinked owlishly, “What time--?”

“5:30am. We’re meeting the others downstairs for breakfast in a bit.”

“A bit…?” Jeremy squinted at him, “Hemsworth’s information pack said that breakfast is at 7am.”

Ryan’s eyes brightened in amusement, “You read her info packs! I knew you cared.”

“Shut the fu--”

“Breakfast  _ is _ at 7, but I figured you needed some more time to get ready and wake up since you didn’t wash, or change, last night.” Ryan told him, sitting down on his own bed, watching in amusement as Jeremy struggled to come to terms with the concept of mornings.

Jeremy gave Ryan a look that he was sure would’ve killed him if they had that kind of power, “Well thanks for your  _ courtesy _ but I’m going back to sleep, right now.” he spat, and promptly buried his face back into the heavenly comfort of his pillow. A hand clasped around Jeremy’s ankles and in one swift motion he was a crumpled mess on the floor. He spluttered and kicked up at Ryan who easily avoided his flails, “What the  _ fuck, _ man?!”

Ryan just looked down at him with an unimpressed look, his mouth twisted and eyes filled with disappointed which made red hot shame crawl its way up Jeremy’s neck. “Breakfast. Go wash and get dressed. I won’t let you go back to sleep so your best bet is to do what I say.”

“Or what you’ll tell  _ Mom _ on me?” Jeremy sneered, lifting himself up from the ground and getting into Ryan’s space, glowering. Ryan just raised an eyebrow, his head still tilted down to look at him, despite Jeremy standing at his full height.

“Don’t be childish.” Ryan muttered, before breaking out a wide smile, “We’re going to the National Gallery today, they have a Boilly exhibition going on at the moment that I’m keen to experience.”

Ryan walked away from him and hopped onto his own bed, bringing his legs up and crossing them underneath him, giving Jeremy a patient smile. Jeremy huffed and unzipped his luggage, pulling out a clean black undershirt, graphic tee and jeans and bundling them together in his arms. “Boilly? You two would have gotten along, you’re both pompous and  _ French _ .” Jeremy mumbled, disgust clear in his voice.

Ryan’s eyebrows furrowed, “I’m not French.”

“So you don’t deny being pompous?” Jeremy noted with a mean grin, giving Ryan a wink before heading into their bathroom and getting washed.

Ryan just gaped at the empty space where he had just been.

* * *

[ Trafalgar Square ](https://www.google.com/maps/@51.5082156,-0.1281043,3a,75y,341.74h,100.03t/data=!3m8!1e1!3m6!1sAF1QipM3313iDcaubJShKNXuV-qEwOUrkv_OJau28SW7!2e10!3e11!6shttps:%2F%2Flh5.googleusercontent.com%2Fp%2FAF1QipM3313iDcaubJShKNXuV-qEwOUrkv_OJau28SW7%3Dw203-h100-k-no-pi-0-ya130.19226-ro0-fo100!7i10240!8i5120) was impressive, that much Jeremy could admit. It was extraordinarily busy, with dozens of tour groups and families sitting down or milling about, their phones and cameras in their hands, mouths agape in awe. There were school children in matching uniforms being marched around by stern teachers, paired two by two and in single file. Jeremy watched some college aged girls point towards the giant four lion statues that were guarding the looming Nelson’s Column. The National Gallery wasn’t hard to find, it took up an entire side of the square and was extremely imposing. Built in the 1800s, it’s white pillars were darkened by years of exposure to smog and exhaust fumes, but still stood strong. Red banners hung between the pillars promoting the current exhibitions, and swung with the gentle wind. The steps leading up to the gallery were as wide as the building itself and were almost entire blocked by hundreds of people sat upon them, eating their lunches, talking to friends or just enjoying the spring day. Mrs Hemsworth hummed unimpressed at the crowds.

“Stick close by me everyone, and make sure to follow the pack! We’ll be heading inside now.” She called to the group while giving a few of the more rebellious students a pointed look, and Jeremy sighed when her beady eyes found him at the back. He blinked tiredly at her until she she looked away again, waving her chubby little arm in the air for them all to follow. The upperclassmen also raised their hands, Ryan among them, and their little group set off. Jeremy rubbed at his eyes, the sun piercing through his retinas, making him wince and pulled his sunglasses off of his head and onto the bridge of his nose. Fuck the sun. This was supposed to be England, why was the sun out? He had been promised rain and gloom but he was yet to see it.

Despite himself, Jeremy’s eyes kept drifting to Ryan at the front. He was with his friends, two other upperclassmen by the names of Jack and Geoff, who were laughing at whatever anecdotes a freshmen was rambling about. Ryan was smiling in his usual friendly manner and Jeremy felt a little twinge in his chest at the sight. A twinge of annoyance, maybe. The freshman was wide eyed and excited to have the attention of all of the upperclassmen, a small blush blooming on the highs of his cheeks when Ryan spoke directly to him. It made Jeremy feel sick.

The National Gallery had large promotional posters everywhere featuring Boilly’s art, a large banner with the words ‘ _ Scenes of Parisian Life’  _ letting them know the name of the exhibit. Jeremy wasn’t a Boilly fan himself, he had meant what he said when he had called him pompous. The man was famous for paintings of everyday street scenes and a more risque look at revolutionary Paris that proved too controversial for his time. All that said to Jeremy was that he was a people watcher who was kinky. The paintings were playful, full of life and soft pastels, but nothing to gawk at.

Hemsworth excitedly told them that they were free to visit any part of the gallery and that the exhibition itself was free admission so they were allowed to visit there as well. Jeremy’s peers whispered excitedly to each other and he rolled his eyes when a giggling Miles pulled on his friend’s arm and pointed to  [ a painting ](https://www.nationalgallery.org.uk/paintings/guido-reni-and-studio-the-toilet-of-venus) of a naked woman being doted on by three other partially naked women and two children. Jeremy looked a little closer and saw that the two young boys in the painting actually had  _ wings _ . Small, underdeveloped wings like that of a hedgling. Miles and his friend made gestures to their chests, cupping their nonexistent breasts and laughed. Jeremy pressed his lips together and ignored them, looking around the room for anything that might interest him more than hormonal idiots. 

Ryan drew his attention again, but this time because the guy was staring right at him with an unreadable look on his face. Jeremy startled when he saw him looking but quickly schooled his expression back to be disinterested and aloof. Ryan seemed to notice this however, since a knowing smirk took over his face and he ducked his head to let out a quiet laugh. His friends looked at him confused and Jeremy could just about hear Geoff asked Ryan what was so funny. 

Hemsworth seemed to be close to finishing her tirade about the “dos and don'ts” of how to behave in public, reminding them all that the art in the gallery was extremely expensive and that if anything was damaged that she will not hesitate to expel them on the spot and send them back to America in an Amazon box. “We’ll all meet in the cafe for lunch at two. Afterwards you can head back inside the gallery and finish up your exploring. Meet me back here at five and we’ll head to the hotel. Does that sound good to you guys?!”

She gave them all an enthusiastic thumbs up and gauged their underwhelmed response with unfaltering joy, “Brilliant! Go have fun!”

Instead of immediately scattering at once, most of the class stayed put for a few moments, looking around at the different signs and rooms, or discussing where they should go with their friends. Jeremy knew the drill by now and lifted his headphones up to his ears, letting the music wash over him. He was aware that it was a juxtaposition to play such loud and rambunctious songs surrounded by carefully curated and delicate art but he liked the contrast. It was funny to him, and weirdly some of the paintings seemed to match what his music was screaming about. Paintings of grief and horror mirroring the distress and anguish in the singer’s voice. Eventually however, his peers did filter away from the group one by one until he was all that was left.

He looked around him and reluctantly pulled out the information pack Hemsworth made up for them. Towards the front of the pack was a floorplan seemingly ripped straight from the National Gallery’s website which had all of the rooms numbered and a few suggested routes to take through, starting with Room 1, where there Boilly exhibit was. Jeremy winced and pinched the bridge of his nose, making his sunglasses rise up. He didn’t really want to face Ryan, who no doubt was already there gawking at the paintings like he’d never seen a  _ street _ before. And most likely the majority of the group would be there too, since it only made sense to go to the exhibition first and then meander around to the rest of the gallery. 

He decided to do the main route backwards, starting all the way with Room 66 in the Sainsbury Wing and making his way down. Hopefully by leaving the first room for last he’ll avoid most of his peers and manage to make it out of this thing somewhat intact. He pivoted on the spot and looked for a sign pointing him in the right direction before heading over there, reading some information from the information pack. Room 66 was apparently one of the smallest rooms but was entirely dedicated to Leonardo Da Vinci and his associates, with two genuine art pieces by the man himself hung up for all to see. It sent a little thrill down Jeremy’s spine that he was about to see a real life Da Vinci and he quickly squashed it down. His music clicked over to a slower song and he hummed along with it, his fingers tapping along the metal partitions separating him from the works of art rhythmically. Room 66 was quite a walk away from the main room he had started in and he had to walk through multiple other smaller rooms just to get to that one.

Once in Room 66 he noticed that the room was practically deserted. The only other people in the room was an elderly couple, a college aged girl with a large sketchbook and a kid his age turned away from him. They were all in their own world more or less, doing their own things and not paying attention to him at all. It was comforting. Instead, all of their attention was towards the paintings in the room, all of them transfixed in their own ways. The couple were talking quietly to each other while in front of a big, clean display, their arms linked together and pamphlets held tightly in their grip. The girl was sitting on the floor in front of  [ a large artwork ](https://www.nationalgallery.org.uk/paintings/leonardo-da-vinci-the-burlington-house-cartoon) that looked somewhat unfinished compared to the others, still in its sketch phases with no colour or background. She had a large sketchbook open on her lap and she seemed to be sketching her own take of the woman in the drawing, a small piece of charcoal in her hands mapping out the rounds of her cheeks.

There were two paintings on the walls that matched each other, seemingly having come from the same collection or artist. They were similar in height, both tall and narrow pieces of marble or stone, clearly having been taken from an altarpiece or wall before being moved here. The painting should two angels,  [ one in red with a lute ](https://www.nationalgallery.org.uk/paintings/giovanni-ambrogio-de-predis-an-angel-in-red-with-a-lute) and  [ the other in green with a  _ vielle _ ](https://www.nationalgallery.org.uk/paintings/associate-of-leonardo-da-vinci-francesco-napoletano-an-angel-in-green-with-a-vielle) (according to the plague next to the painting, but to Jeremy it looked like a violin). The plague also said that these angels were actually the works painted by Da Vinci’s associates rather than himself, but that they were a part of a collection with another painting of Da Vinci’s in the room, and that they had all come together. He hummed to himself as he looked at the two angels. The somber song from before was still playing in his headphones and he couldn’t help but give his shuffle a mental high five for somehow choosing a song that fit so well with the paintings. 

Someone tapped his shoulder and he jolted out of his skin, spinning around to accuse whoever tapped him with scaring him when he met a familiar face.

Ryan startled back at Jeremy’s aggressive response and laughed, though it was unheard by Jeremy, whose music was still blasting into his skull. Ryan lifted his hands to his ears and mimed taking off headphones with a sorry smile. Jeremy let out the loudest and most put upon sigh he had ever let out before taking his phone out of his pocket and pausing his music, then taking his headphones off of his ears. “What the fuck do you want?” Jeremy asked, unfriendly. Though Ryan  _ did  _ just scare the crap out of him.

“Just saying ‘hi’, though you were looking kinda intensely at these guys and I’m not sure if you have a grudge against them or not.” Ryan joked lamely obviously as surprised to see Jeremy as Jeremy was to see him. 

“They’re paintings.” Jeremy replied bluntly, unamused.

Ryan lifted a hand to scratch at the back of his head, suddenly shy, “Yeah, I know. I just meant- I was just messing around.”

Jeremy didn’t reply to him, instead leveling him with an incredibly bored look.

Ryan had the decency to look embarrassed and he kicked at the polished floor beneath their feet, scuffing the pristine wood a little with the rubber of his shoe, “Fancy seeing you here, I thought for sure you would be with Boilly.”

“I could say the same for you, weren’t you the one that was super horny for him yesterday?” Jeremy pointed out, not unkindly but not friendly either. “Pompous meet pompous and all that shit.”

“Yeah well,” Ryan cleared his throat and looked away from Jeremy and at the paintings in front of them, “It was a bit too busy for my taste. Thought I’d work backwards so hopefully it’s a little less crowded by the time I get there, y’know?” 

Jeremy stared at him for a moment before looking away and back to the paintings of the angels again, “Yeah that was my plan as well.” He decided not to mention that he only had this plan because he had been trying to avoid Ryan in the first place, for whatever reason Jeremy didn’t think that tidbit of information was going to be useful right now. He looked around Ryan and the room with a frown, “Where are your goons?”

“My go-? Oh! Jack and Geoff?” Ryan laughed and shook his head, “Geoff doesn’t really care for all of this stuff, he was in the Photography Club originally and Jack thinks that classic art is boring.” He shrugged, shoulders touching his ears, “But this sorta thing has always really interested me so I decided to have a little wander while they camp out at the cafe until the end of the day.”

Jeremy huffed, “I didn’t even know that camping out at the cafe was an option.”

“I don’t think it is really, but Hemsworth isn’t there to catch them so they’re fine for now.” Ryan agreed when a flash out shyness flashed over his face once more, “So I started hanging around and experiencing the gallery on my own but, well... “ He ducked his head and Jeremy looked at him confused, noticing a light flush appear along the older boy’s cheeks, “This sorta thing is only really fun when you do it with a friend.”

Jeremy realised that he had a choice to make in that moment and he knew that the right choice was  _ not _ the one that he wanted to make. He struggled internally for a few moments while Ryan’s face went softer, more vulnerable, his clear blue eyes twinkling in the lights of the room, almost like crystals. He let out a suffering groan and pinched the bridge of his nose. God.  _ Damnit. _

“You could hang out with me,” Jeremy offered, in a tight voice, “since your friends ditched you.”

Jeremy would say that the way Ryan’s eyes lit up was worth it, but that would be admitting defeat.

* * *

They had made their way through most of the Sainsbury Wing in silence, the two of them making their way through the rooms with an awkward air around them. Occasionally, Ryan would make a comment about some of the art and Jeremy would huff out a grunt of agreement (or disagreement, depending). They weren’t friends, that much was clear, but Ryan had started to loosen up again like he had been last night when they were both too tired to care about social cues and what is and isn’t appropriate. It wasn’t that Jeremy  _ hated  _ Ryan, that much was clear by this point. In fact, sometimes he actually found Ryan to be just okay, which was saying a lot. But he and Ryan just… weren’t on the same path in life and had very, very different ideas of what it meant to graduate high school.

Ryan was incredibly intelligent and extremely well liked. A lot of the younger students knew him as he was usually in the halls helping freshmen with any questions, giving junior’s advice on college applications and helping sophomores get into the swing of things. He was a teacher without actually being one, and a lot of people really admired him. Jeremy had overheard a rumour that he had four different Ivy League schools clamouring to get him, desperate to have Ryan Haywood as their alumni. Of course it wasn’t just that he was ridiculously smart, he also had the weight of the Haywood name on his shoulder, and the fact that  _ everyone  _ was looking at him to see if he would follow in his father’s footsteps. 

Jeremy was… Jeremy. He didn’t excel in any of his classes and he had never been pushed by any adult figure in his life to achieve and so he had always just sort of floated through life. He didn’t do terribly in classes but he never did well. He had only joined the Art Club because Hemsworth saw his doodles and quote-unquote “saw something” in him. Whatever that meant. He saw graduation as the end of high school and the start of his meaningless life as a blue collar worker, Ryan saw graduation as a stepping stone to certain success. And yet somehow despite all that, they had both been left alone by the world.

He supposed they had that in common.

“We’re just about finished in the Sainsbury Wing, huh?” Ryan pondered aloud, snapping Jeremy from his thoughts. “I kinda wanna head up to the red section of the map now, since we were just in the 1200-1500 section of history. What do you say? Wanna head to the 1600s?”

Jeremy looked at Ryan who was struggling with his own copy of Hemsworth’s information pack, flipping through the many pages with his thumb, trying to find the right information. Jeremy sighed and pulled out his own, “What’s there?” He skipped to the correct page with ease, his own colour system he had edited onto the pack helping his navigate, “Titian, Holbein, Bronzino and Massys? Ugh,  _ Europeans _ .”

“We’re both descended from Europeans, Jeremy.” Ryan reminded him.

“Yeah and look where that got us.” Jeremy grunted. “Go on then, pal. Who are those guys?”

Ryan looked pleased with Jeremy’s question and plucked Jeremy’s information packet from his hands, ignoring his own, “Well, Titian is considered to be one of the greatest painters in the world, so the National Gallery must be very pleased to have some of his art here. In fact, one of his most famous pieces is actually here,  _ Bacchus and Ariadne _ . That’ll be fun to see.”

“There’s no way you said that correctly.” Jeremy teased him.

Ryan pouted and stood up straighter, “Well I’ve never heard it said aloud so I just winged it. Sounded convincing though, right?”

“As convincing as a toddler speaking fluent Italian.”

“There  _ are  _ toddlers that are fluent in Italian, Jeremy.” Ryan told him seriously.

Jeremy raised an eyebrow at him incredulously, “No there aren’t…?”

“Toddlers from Italy? They can speak Italian. It’s their first language.”

Jeremy flushed, “Yeah, but not  _ well _ .”

The new section was as lavish as the first, which was to be expected by now. Instead of being separated into rooms, this section of the Gallery had long hallways and tall, open rooms with dozens of paintings hung upon the walls. There were more people in this section too as it was closer to the main entrance and had a lot of the earlier room numbers. They could even spot a few of their peers wandering around in their friendship groups. Three girls in Jeremy’s year, Barbara, Elyse and Mariel were all crowded around a large painting of a handsome man laying naked on red satin sheets, his head in another man’s lap. Barbara and Elyse were talking to each other in hushed whispers while Mariel seemed eager to look at other paintings and was tugging at their arms.

Ryan smiled at the girls when they spotted them, nodding his head in greeting, “Hiya! You girls checked out the Sainsbury Wing yet? We just came from there.”

Barbara looked behind Ryan’s shoulder, the taller girl looking down at Jeremy curiously, “No. We’ve barely made it through this section. Mariel wants us to move on though.”

“That’s because you guys keep gawking at every bare chested man you see.” Mariel huffed, annoyed, her dark hair blowing off of her face, “It’s so  _ boring _ .”

“For  _ you,  _ maybe.” Elyse laughed, not unkindly, instead just poking her friend in her side. “Why do they paint them so hunky if we aren’t meant to stare.”

Ryan gave them all a dazzling smile, “I can’t say I have an opinion on the matter.”

Barbara smiled innocently, her eyes moving from Jeremy to Ryan with a knowing look. What she thought she knew, however, was beyond Jeremy, “No, you’re not really into the slim, Adonis types, huh Rye? Maybe you like them a little bulkier, or  _ shorter--”  _ She said the last part so quietly that Jeremy could barely hear her, but whatever she said seemed to touch a nerve as Ryan cleared his throat violently.

Ryan clapped his hands and turned to Jeremy, a light flush on his face, “Right then! Titian, was it? I think we’re almost to his room. We can probably make it through this whole section before we break for lunch.” He spun back to face the girls and Jeremy was sure he wasn’t mistaking the tightness to his voice as he spoke, “We’ll leave you girls to it then, remember to head to the cafe for lunch. Just so Hemsworth knows you didn’t go missing.”

Elyse giggled to herself, her arms linking with her friends, while Mariel hissed something into Barbara’s ear like she was scolding her. “We’ll be good, as long as you boys are too!” 

“I’m always good.” Ryan replied with a pout before waving delicately at them and walking away. Jeremy coughed uncomfortably, suddenly aware at how all three girls were staring at him, and quickly scuttled off to follow Ryan. “Sorry about them, I don’t think they meant what they said.” Ryan apologised quietly, out of the side of his mouth. 

Jeremy blinked at him, “To be honest I don’t think I really understood what they were saying. I sorta zoned out when they started talking.”

Ryan barked out a laugh that seemed to surprise himself, “Not a fan?”

“They’re okay,” Jeremy admitted with a shrug, “I just seem them every day in all my classes so I think maybe I’m just immune to them now. They’ve always been very… happy.” Jeremy finished, lamely.

“Mean Girl-esque?”

“Nah. Not like the Mean Girls. Unless every teenage girl trio are Mean Girls-esque. But that might just be stereotyping.” Jeremy pondered.

“I suppose you have a point.” Ryan laughed.

Jeremy hummed to himself, tapping the information pack to his chin, “They’re just a lot to deal with at six in the morning when the only thing you want to do is crawl back into bed.”

“I can see that, but I’m starting to think that you feel that way about everyone.” Ryan bumped his shoulder lightly, with a small grin.

“No.” Jeremy told him, “Not everyone.”

* * *

The rest of the day passed in mostly the same way. The two of them would chat and laugh together, with small silences turning awkward in mere seconds. It was uncomfortable while somehow proving to be a lot more fun than either boy wanted to admit. Soon enough, lunch was upon them and they headed to the cafe. Once there, Jack and Geoff seemed to immediately sense that Ryan had arrived and they waved him over to their table with a yell.

“You don’t need to yell,” Ryan mumbled to them through a pained smiled, “We don’t need to perpetuate any loud American stereotypes while we’re here.”

Geoff rolled his eyes and propped his feet up on the chair Ryan was aiming to sit down on, causing Ryan to shove his feet away and sit down anyway. “Trump sorta ruined any good image we had in any other country so I think we can say ‘fuck it’ to pretenses.” 

Jack grumbled under his breath at the mention of the President and Ryan gave him a sideways glance. “What do they have that’s good here?” Ryan asked, his stomach rumbling suddenly as his hunger caught up to him.

“I had a toasted bacon sandwich that was delicious. Geoff had a salad; there isn’t much for keto here.” Jack hummed, as Geoff let out a yell of indignation after being reminded of his lack of food choices. “Though there’s plenty here that you’d like.”

“Not  _ one _ keto meal, and I was lead to believe London was  _ healthy _ \--”

“I’m not sure,” Ryan pondered, ignoring Geoff completely, “I’ll have to have a look.”

Jack slapped his arm suddenly, his eyes trained behind Ryan’s head. “Dude. You have a tagalong.”

Ryan furrowed his eyebrows and turned around to look behind him, where Jack’s eyes were trained. A few steps away, looking somewhat lost and out of place, was a very subdued looking Jeremy. Ryan clicked his tongue, watching how Jeremy had his hands in his pockets and was seemingly trying to make himself appear smaller than he already was. “Ah, dammit. I didn’t even think--” Ryan chastised himself. He turned back to his friend, Geoff having now stopped his rambling. “Can we invite him over to eat with us? He doesn’t have any friends on the trip.”

“Dude.” Geoff started but stopped when Jack elbowed his side.

“It’s not that we don’t want to,” Jack hushed, eyes flicking between his friend and Jeremy, “But I don’t really think that bringing him over here with give off the best… image.”

Ryan’s eyebrows settled low and dangerous, like thunderclouds, “What’s that supposed to mean.”

Geoff shifted in his seat, “He’s not exactly… like  _ you _ . Y’know? He’s not even like us.”

“Hemsworth would lose her mind if she saw you two hanging out--”

“--plus he’s just, well  _ y’know _ \--”

“--not to mention what your Dad would think--”

The vein in Ryan’s forehead twitched and he clenched his jaw, “Well, my  _ father  _ isn’t here, is he?”

Jack and Geoff exchanged an uneasy look, “Well, no, but you know how important these next few weeks are for you--” Jack reminded him, his voice gentle.

“I don’t need you to remind me of that Jack, I already have my entire family  _ and _ the school breathing down my neck as is.” Ryan glowered at him, before dropping his head into his hands tiredly, “Just- Just drop it, alright. I didn’t want to make a  _ thing _ of inviting him over here.”

Jack pushed the last scraps of his food around on his plate and looked Geoff with worried eyes. Geoff cleared his throat and kicked his feet up onto Ryan’s lap, “How hard is it to get a keto option, anyway? Just a salad, anything!”

“They have salads, Geoff.” Jack reminded him, “You had one.”

Geoff slung his head back and groaned, “Yeah,  _ one  _ salad. I’m a growing boy! I need more than rabbit food to keep me going.”

Jack squinted at him, “Don’t do the keto diet then…?”

“Listen, Jack, I don’t think you understand--”

Ryan tuned his friends out and looked around at the rest of the student’s sitting around the cafe in their friendship groups. Everyone seemed to be in a group, apart from--

His eyes couldn’t help but drift over to where Jeremy had settled, sat by himself by the large windows. Jeremy was picking at a sandwich of his own, eyes glazed over and headphones secured over his ears. He looked a lot like he had when they had first arrived in England, and Ryan couldn’t help the small pang of guilt in his chest at the sight. They weren’t friends but they weren’t enemies either. Ryan had always been friendly with the boy and seeing him so obviously lonely while he himself was surrounded by friends didn’t sit right in his stomach. He swallowed to wet his suddenly dry throat and stood up, chair skidding along the tiled floor. “Excuse me, I’m gonna get some food.” 

He could feel Jack and Geoff’s eyes burning into him as he walked away from the table and towards the fridges, the back of his neck flushing under their gaze. The sudden weight of guilt over the Jeremy situation was making his head spin. He struggled to keep his eyes focused on the sandwich packets as a need built in his head to turn and look at Jeremy, though he kept it down. He blinked rapidly as his eyes continued to stay unfocused, and forced himself to read the labels on the sandwiches. 

_ “Damnit.” _ he hissed, breathing in sharply. This hadn’t happened for months now, not since his father slid the college packets his way and told Ryan that he was counting on him. He remembered how his head had spun then, how his palms had sweat and his eyes glazed over. It had been all too much for him then and it was all too much now. But why did he feel so  _ guilty. _ He blinked, and felt the cool air sweep over his damp forehead.  _ Focus.  _ He could do that. He could do anything people needed from him. He could get into Yale if he was told to. If he could do that--

It shouldn’t be this hard just to read some fucking  _ sandwich _ labels. Focus on one. Just one. Don’t try to read them all. Read one, read one, read--

_ Ham and Cheese Toastie _

That’s one. He was fine. Could someone have a panic attack read sandwich labels? He didn’t think so. Not that he was having a panic attack anyway.

_ Avocado Wrap _

And that was two. He was fine. God, he wished everyone wasn’t looking at him. He could feel their eyes on him. He could feel their eyes like pin pricks digging into his flesh and piercing the thin tissue of his veins. He could feel the eyes, like needles, scratching and nipping at his exposed skin, biting into him like parasites. He could feel the eyes, like knives, ripping into his flesh and opening him up exposing his entrails to the world like his guts were just another priceless piece of art for them to gawk at and examine. He heaved and grabbed the first sandwich his hand made contact with. He was just hungry. He needed to eat. Buy food, eat it. Stay with friends, talk to friends, sit with Jeremy--

_ You’re still in that silly little club? Ryan, you aren’t pursuing the Arts in college. _

Breathe. Breathe, breathe you fucking--

_ It might be fun but what will it look like on your application? Like wasted time, Ryan. Do you think Yale wants you to waste their time? _

Sandwiches aren’t supposed to feel this heavy but it is. It’s like a deadweight in his hand, sinking to the ground, bringing him along with it. He felt like if he let it, the sandwich could pull him into the dark earth, with no sound and no light, choking him--

_ Do well today, son. Remember, every second counts. Don’t fail me. _

How would it be any different, if he let the sandwich bring him into the earth? He was already suffocating, after all.

“Ryan?”

The world was bright again and he gasped. Fresh air sped into his lungs, like runners at the sound of a gun, filling his chest and cooling him down. He sputtered out a cough, and a heavy hand slammed on his back.

“Thought we’d lost you there, did you get stumped on what sandwich to get?” Ryan turned to his saviour and started at the sight of the bumbling Mrs Hemsworth, her eyes squinted as she smiled. Ryan just stared at her dumbly, still heaving for breath. Her smile faded somewhat as she took in his appearance, “Did something happen? You’re so pale.”

He couldn’t form a reply, his mouth opening and closing on its own searching for an excuse as to why he just had a breakdown while choosing a sandwich. “I…” he blinked owlishly at her, and tried to clear his mind of his anxieties enough to remember how to speak, “I just… remembered that I’m trying to be gluten free.”

Hemsworth mirrored his expression, the two of them staring at each other like matching bookends. “...Oh?” she mused, her voice betraying her uncertainty, “You should have said, Ryan.”

Ryan huffed out a long breath. He pushed his hair back in a feeble attempt to make himself appear a little more put together. “Well, you know. Cut out the glutey before it gets to your booty, and all that.” 

He wanted to die.

Hemsworth looked down at her own tuna and sweetcorn wrap, her free hand mindlessly squeezing at her fatty sides, “That must be how you stay in such good shape.” she hummed, her mind suddenly elsewhere. Ryan looked back at the display and picked out a fruit salad, holding it up at her like a prize.

“That’s me all sorted! Thank God I remembered, honestly I’m such a ditz sometimes.” he forced out a laugh and waved the fruit salad at her in farewell, turning to walk to the checkout so he could head back to his friends and die in peace.

* * *

Jack and Geoff seemed content with staying in the cafe for the rest of the gallery trip, waiting for Hemsworth to herd everyone up like cattle and send them to their next destination. Geoff had gotten Jack started on his long lasting feud between himself and his Algebra teacher, which Ryan knew from experience would keep them busy for the next ten hours. Which meant that once again he was alone for his tour of the gallery.

He let his eyes scan around the cafe as he stood up to throw away his now empty fruit salad bowl, but he couldn’t spot Jeremy anywhere in the crowd. For extra measure, he propped himself up on his tiptoes but still couldn’t find him. Ryan tried not to acknowledge the slight drop in his heart to see that Jeremy had carried on without him, but it just meant that the weight became harder and harder to ignore with each passing moment. 

The rest of the tour was regretfully uneventful without anyone by his side. He did end out scouting out the Boilly exhibit but couldn’t help but hear Jeremy’s snide comments about the artist at every turn. The exhibit was impressive to be sure but Ryan found that it didn’t hold his interest for long before his gaze started to shift around the room at the people around him. The room was packed, like it had been earlier, though it wasn’t anywhere near suffocating. Tourists from all around the world surrounded him, each speaking excitedly to their friends in foreign tongues, only some Ryan recognised. 

On their flight over, an informational pamphlet advertising London sights had claimed that the city was the multicultural hub of the world and while he wasn’t sure if that was true or not, he was somewhat overwhelmed by the sheer variety of people he had seen in just one day. People from countries he had never even heard of, wearing bright clothes and being so vibrant that it made Ryan’s Georgian sensibilities go haywire. It was refreshing. He let himself breathe in their innate sense of  _ freedom _ before continuing on his tour.

Without anyone there to discuss the art with he found himself speeding through the gallery much quicker than originally planned, and found that by the time he had seen everything he still had an hour and a half before Hemsworth said to meet back up. He tutted to himself and thought about how he could occupy himself until then. He pulled out his phone and checked his notifications, thanking his mother silently for insisting that he upgrade his data plan to allow his phone to have 4G even in another country. A few missed texts from Geoff, complaining about Jack’s rambles, some Twitter notifications and a voicemail. He raised an eyebrow at that last one and tapped his finger on the little bubble, raising his phone to his ear as his voicemail started to play.

_ “Ryan? This is your father. A letter from Yale came in the post--” _

* * *

Jeremy wasn’t mad. He wasn’t. But he wasn’t stupid either.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out why Ryan’s friends had glared at him so coldly that he was sure his soul had frostbite. Ryan was untouchable, perfect and far, far above him in status. He was popular, liked, handsome and Jeremy was not. He wasn’t bitter, he knew who he was. And yet… Ryan hadn’t stopped them. He hadn’t moved away to sit with Jeremy instead, like a moral saviour. Instead he sat with his friends, laughed with them, talked with them, while Jeremy had sat alone and away from the rest of his peers drowning himself in his music. He wasn’t bitter, he  _ wasn’t.  _

He sighed, looking to the ceiling and closing his eyes. He lifted his hands to his ears and pulled his headphones off of his ears, letting the relative silence of the men’s restroom wash over him. After the lunch incident he found that he wasn’t too thrilled to continue with his exploration of the gallery, instead setting up camp in one of the restroom stalls, his feet propped up on the door and rock music blasting into his ears. But his self pity session could only last for so long before he started to feel the tendrils of boredom curl around his mind. There was light, plucky harpsichord music playing quietly over the buildings sound system though Jeremy wasn’t opposed to it. He loved his music, but he could only listen to the unrelenting guitar and drums for so long before a headache took over his head.

Jeremy checked his phone and grunted when he realised he still had half an hour before he had to head back to the others. He wasn’t exactly looking forward to spending the rest of the evening in tense company with Ryan. He could claim exhaustion, from having been awoken at such an early hour but in actual fact, once he had gotten outside into the bitter cold of the London morning, all sense of fatigue left him. Damnit. His headphones were still playing his music through their speakers, just loud enough for him to hear it around his neck, so he turned the music off completely.

With his Spotify open he instead navigated his way through the app to get to his playlists, which he had been compiling since he had started his account. He scrolled through the many, many playlists and faltered slightly over a playlist labelled  _ ‘You’.  _ His thumb hesitated over the screen before finally pressing play, and closing his eyes. Immediately the  [ soft, delicate notes of a piano started to play ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=con8OUKJDTY&list=OLAK5uy_n0RkDoWZ97NCq2HbDo_FiRkyLC6o-hDgY) in his ear, and he let the bittersweet melody take over his mind. 

His mind started to fill with memories. Snow falling, illuminated only by Boston street lights. A bakery display with a dozen identical gingerbread men, one of them has a broken arm. Someone gripping his hand in theirs, gloved fingers intertwining. A couple kissing in the white streets, their faces red from the cold and the intimate moment they shared. A car door slamming, skidding tires. A phone ringing. A heart beat.

Jeremy ripped his headphones off of his head and dropped them to the floor, breathing heavily. They crashed to the ground with an ugly clatter and Jeremy’s heart thudded, hoping he hadn’t broken them. Gingerly he picked the headphones back up, but his hands stutter stopped when he heard the piano still playing. Jeremy reached into his pocket to pull out his phone and stop the music, his face drawn into a quiet frown. He wasn’t quite ready. Somewhere his in his mind, deep and hidden down, down below where he could barely hear it, a little voice piped up and said  _ “You’ll never be ready.” _

He pushed the voice down further, effectively shutting it up.

He will be, one day just- just not today.

Half an hour passed like nothing once Jeremy had connected to the building’s free wi-fi to watch YouTube on his phone and soon he was stretching out his back, and heading out of the rest room and back to the meet up point. By the time he had gotten there, a fair few number of his classmates were gathered around and loudly talking about their days. Despite himself, Jeremy looked around for Ryan, seeing the back of his head at the epicentre of the group, next to Hemsworth. Jeremy let out an annoyed  _ tsk _ at the sight of him and turned away, shoving his hands into his pockets.

Hemsworth was stood on one of the cafe’s chairs to get a higher vantage point, so that she could count her students. Upon seeing that Jeremy had arrived she nodded and mumbled a number under her breath that Jeremy couldn’t hear. After a few more minutes of waiting, the rest of the stragglers made it back and she seemed satisfied. “Did you all have a good time? I hope you all got to see the Boilly exhibit!”

A few students let out affirmative noises while the rest stared at her with gormless expressions, despite this she carried on. Jeremy tuned her out almost immediately and found that his gaze drifted away from her and behind her head at the wall, which had far more personality than she could ever muster up. He never did go to the Boilly exhibit in the end, after everything, and his eyes once again found Ryan’s figure at the front.  _ Did he _ go ? _ He did seem interested. _

_ Why do you care if he did or not? _

Jeremy shook his head and noticed that the group had started moving again and he let himself follow behind everyone else. As soon as Jeremy went through the large doors to the gallery he was rushed with a blast of chilly evening air. The London sky was back to the dusty orange it had been yesterday when they had first arrived, though now they were up close and personal with the city it took Jeremy’s breath away.

The city was sparkling all around him, the lights coming from the windows of the surrounding buildings giving Trafalgar Square a warm, comfortable glow. At some point while they were inside it must have rained, which turned the concrete ground into a mirror that reflected the night lights and lit up the entire area. It was overwhelmingly gorgeous and Jeremy felt reluctant to leave the view. Hemsworth seemed to sense that he was lagging behind because as soon as his feet almost slowed to a stop to look around in awe, she was yelling behind her for everyone to stay close together. He gave the square one last look, hoping that he could take a mental snapshot, before turning away and jog-walked back to catch up with the rest of the group.

Soon enough they were herded into the Underground Station that had been to that morning and headed on the Eastbound train back to their hotel. Some students had managed to nab a seat and were settled down, showing each other memorabilia they had gotten from the National Gallery gift shop. Others were stood up and hanging onto the ceiling railings to keep their balance, looking half asleep from the events of the day and any remaining jet lag they were burdened with. Jeremy was stood up as well, his arm looped around a pole in the middle of the train to keep him from falling flat on his face. He tapped away at his phone, watching his 4G signal drop from three bars to one as there traveled further underground. Once his phone showed an apologetic ‘E’ to tell him that it couldn’t connect to the internet any more he tutted and shoved it back into his pocket.

Jeremy looked around and saw that the bulk of the people on the train had left, leaving just their group behind. On the opposite end of the carriage he saw Ryan, leaning up against the closed doors, his blue eyes murky and distant. Jeremy tilted his head, taking in his posture. He seemed quieter than usual. Normally, Ryan would be chatting with the other students, engaging them in polite conversation, asking them how their day was. Instead he was withdrawn, his friends talking around him rather than with him. His shoulders were slightly hunched over and his arms hung aimlessly by his sides. Something squeezed inside Jeremy’s chest and he looked away. Whatever hissy fit Ryan had got himself into could fuck off for all he cared. It wasn’t any of his business. 

A woman’s voice informed them that they had arrived at their stop and Hemsworth somehow wrangled the restless teens off of the train before the doors closed. She egged them on to head back to the hotel with high spirits but the most the group could muster was a half hearted groan. They dragged their feet out of the station and walked the short distance to their hotel, lumbering into the lobby with a shared sudden exhaustion.

“Alright, alright. You have the rest of the evening to relax. But I am trusting all of you not to run around the halls and yell. Remember, we are not the only guests here.” Hemsworth told them all in a pathetic attempt at a stern voice.

Jeremy severely doubted that there were other guests in the small hotel. Their class took up most of the rooms and even the staff looked bored out of their minds to be here. Hemsworth waved a hand to dismiss them and their class split off to go to their friend’s rooms to relax until it was time to sleep. Jeremy took that as his cue to head to their room and hopefully get there before Ryan, so that maybe he could lock the man out. He yawned and headed to their room, his eyes drooping. He patted his pockets for the key once he got to the door and frowned, he could have sworn that he had put the key in his jacket pocket--

Seemingly sensing his rising annoyance, Ryan appeared at the top of the stairs, halting once his eyes landed on Jeremy. They looked at each other for a few moments before Jeremy gestured to the door. Ryan nodded and  _ ‘ahh’ _ -ed, and pulled out their room key from his own jacket. Jeremy frowned. Ryan unlocked their door and headed inside, leaving it open for Jeremy to follow behind. They didn’t speak or exchange words about the second half of the day, not that Jeremy had expected them to. Instead, Ryan flopped onto his bed and sighed into his pillow.

Jeremy stood awkwardly by the door and cleared his throat, “Why are you so tired?”

Ryan didn’t reply immediately, and at first Jeremy thought that he was ignoring him, but after a few moments Ryan hummed into his pillow and tilted his head so that it wasn’t covered, “I guess the jet lag is hitting us all harder than we thought it would.”

Jeremy sensed that something was off in Ryan’s voice but paid it no mind and headed to his own bed, perching on the end to kick his shoes off. They were both quiet for a couple of minutes and Jeremy removed his jacket, throwing it onto a small armchair that was sitting in the corner, and taking the half drunk bottle of soda he had bought at lunch and drinking the rest of it. He heard people talking in the room next to theirs and heard an uproar of laughter as someone cracked a joke. There was a rustle coming from Ryan’s bed and Jeremy turned to see that Ryan had shifted so that he was laying on his side, facing away from Jeremy, instead of on his stomach as he had been before. 

He grunted.

Ryan didn’t make a sound.

He grunted again, louder.

Ryan sighed.

“Did you want something?” Ryan asked him, pointedly.

“Nah.” Jeremy replied gruffly, but he scratched the back of his head in thought, “Was just wondering who stole your tongue while we were out.” Ryan let out another forlorn sigh, which just made Jeremy roll his eyes. Jeremy shuffled back on his bed and laid down, his head hitting the pillow with a soft  _ thump.  _ “Come on, what happened to the guy who wouldn’t shut up yesterday?”

“I just--” Ryan started, but seemed to choke on his own tongue. He went silent again, but this time Jeremy waited instead of pushing him any further. Ryan rolled over onto his back and stared at the ceiling. Jeremy knew how much he himself hated getting pushed into talking when it was the last thing in the world he wanted to do. He could give Ryan that much kindness as to not force him to do anything he didn’t want to do.

“What are you gonna do after school?”

Jeremy choked on his own spit. He sat up a little to hack out his lungs before settling back down. “Why’d you ask?” Jeremy queried, his voice raspy from coughing.

Ryan paused again but this time Jeremy could tell he was just thinking about how to reply. “Have you started doing those lateral thinking puzzles with Mr Burns back at school yet? He started throwing them at us when I was in your grade.”

Jeremy felt like he had whiplash from how drastically the conversation topic changed, “Uh, yeah. He started giving them to us in class for discussion and then more recently he’s been giving them to us for homework. Why?”

“He once gave us a puzzle where we had to find the solution to this guy’s life story. He’s this average looking, thirty-something man in a dead end job, with no wife, no future, no friends. He has goals but no drive, and life seems to never go his way. Yadda-yadda-yadda, sooner or later he finds himself on the roof of his office, standing on the edge and he’s faced with a choice. The choice to fly or the choice to fall.”

Ryan paused to take a breath and Jeremy watched him, confused.

“Then Mr Burns asks us ‘What does he choose?’ and we have to ask him yes or no questions to help narrow down the answer, right?”

“...Right?” Jeremy was familiar with Mr. Burns’ inane and often convoluted puzzles, he hated them with a passion.

“Right.” Ryan breathes again. “So I ask if he has wings, Burns says no. Can he float? No. Does he have the ability to fly? No.” Another breath.

Jeremy looked confused, “So he has to fall, right? If he can’t fly?”

“You’d think.” Ryan chokes out a laugh, like he wasn’t expecting it, “But no. You wanna know the answer?”

“...Sure…?”

“He chose to fly, even though he knew he would fall.” Ryan whispered. The room was silent and Ryan laughed again, this time quieter, more tired. “I’m sorry--”

“--No, don’t be--”

“--I’m just tired--”

“--It’s fine, really--”

Ryan looked at him for the first time in hours, and Jeremy was surprised to find that his eyes were wet. “I’m gonna try and get some sleep, if that’s okay. I… I think I need to relax a bit.”

Jeremy blinked at him, not fully aware of what just happened. “Okay.” he said, quietly. 

Ryan turned away from him again and tucked his legs up so that he was curled up, “...Jeremy?”

“Yeah, pal?”

“...Thanks for hanging out with me today.”

Jeremy looked surprised, and shocked even himself by smiling warmly at Ryan, “It’s no problem.”

* * *

The room was pitch black when Jeremy was jostled awake by a hushed, but very annoyed  _ “Fuck--!” _

He blinked owlishly at the dark room in confusion, a hand coming up to rub his eyes. He heard something rustling near the door and squinted as his eyes adjusted, barely able to see a frozen still black blob. He reached for his phone and tapped the screen, making it light up, and shon it at the blob, finding a very wild and crazed Ryan looking back at him. They stared at each other. Jeremy took in what Ryan was doing.

Ryan had his coat on, a maroon knitted scarf wrapped around his neck and covering the bottom of his face. He had his suitcase open on his bed and was in the middle of pulling things out of it-- No. He was putting things inside it…?

“Ryan…?” Jeremy asked, groggily.  _ What time is it? _ “What are you doing?”

“I--” Ryan stuttered. He seemed lost for words and looked like he had just been caught doing something criminal. “Jeremy, you have to understand--”

Jeremy flicked on his bedside lamp to see a little clearer. Ryan had his shoes on too, he was getting ready to leave. “What time is it? Am I late?” Jeremy looked at his phone and a bored  _ ‘3:14am’  _ looked back at him. “It’s three in the morning, what are you…?”

Ryan seemed frenzied and ran a franti hand through his hair, his eyes darting to the door and then back to Jeremy, ‘You can’t say anything, please. Don’t tell anyone you saw me, don’t tell them--”

“What are you talking ab--”

“I’m leaving. I can’t, my father--” Ryan walked towards Jeremy’s bed and dropped to his knees, grabbing Jeremy’s hands, and looking at him with wild, crazed eyes. “He’ll kill me if he knew, please. Let me go, don’t tell them.”

“Let you go…?” Jeremy’s previous sleepiness was slapped away from him the moment Ryan had taken his hands and replace it with very alert panic, “Where are you going?”

“Away.” Ryan said, suddenly determined, “I can’t stay here, I can’t go back to him. To that house. To that- that  _ future. _ I can’t it’s too much--”

“Are you-” Jeremy hushed his voice, suddenly aware of how loud he was being in comparison to Ryan’s hissed whispers, “Are you talking about  _ running away?! _ ”

Ryan’s face looked pained.

“That’s insane you can’t--” Jeremy ripped his hands away from Ryan’s and stared at him like he was crazy, “You can’t fucking run away, what the hell do you think will happen?!”

Ryan let out a loud bark of laughter, and ducked his head into his hands, looking just about ready to cry. Jeremy shushed him and waited for a moment to make sure they hadn’t woken anyone up. “Ryan, think about this logically. Where would you even go? You’re in fucking  _ England. _ You don’t know anyone here, you have no money, you have no idea where anything is--”

A light suddenly sparked behind Ryan’s eyes and his head snapped up to look at Jeremy with such intensity that it made Jeremy lose his train of thought, “I have you.”

“Wh-What?”

“I have you. You and me, together."

“ _ What?!” _

Ryan slapped a hand to his forehead in amazement, “Why didn’t I think of it before, you- You’re like me. You feel it too don’t you? The  _ pressure _ ? You must. How do you- How do you  _ bear  _ it? It’s  _ suffocating _ .”

Jeremy gaped at him, unsure of who exactly was in front of him right now. “Ryan, please. Please just think about this. You have so much going for you. If you do this, you’ll be throwing that all away.”

Something about that made a grin so sure, so fueled with vengeance, curl onto Ryan’s face that it scared Jeremy. “ _ That’s exactly why I’m doing it.” _

Ryan stood up and gathered the rest of his things, suddenly pushed by a new passion, his face set in determination. Jeremy pushed his duvet aside and stood up, grabbing the suitcase from Ryan and hugging it to his chest, “I won’t let you do this, I can’t let you destroy your life like that!”

“Jeremy,” Ryan said in a tone so calm that Jeremy was almost convinced that this mess was over with. “I’m going, either with or without you. I have nothing waiting for me back home except a life that has already been planned for me. Right now, this is the first decision I’ve made that has been truly  _ my own _ in years! This right here is me, this right here is my choice. My choice to  _ fly. _ ”

“But-” Jeremy protested, but his voice was growing weaker, “But you’ll fall.”

“Then that would have been my choice.”

Jeremy couldn’t. He  _ couldn't  _ let Ryan go. He couldn’t wave him off on his insane adventure and fake innocence when asked when he had last seen him. He couldn’t do that to his friends, to his family. He couldn’t lie to them.

Ryan held out a hand, and looked at him with those warm, clear eyes. “Jeremy,  _ fly with me. _ ”

And he, like a fool, said yes.

**Author's Note:**

> This is actually being written for Camp Nanowrimo so assumably (if I stick to it) this fic will be finished within the month so that's all very fun. On the other hand Endgame comes out soon and I know my dick is gonna be rock solid for that film so we'll just have to see if I can calm myself to write. New chapter soon(?)!


End file.
